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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Part 2
Jarod heard mutterings from the other room and quickly walked over, pushing open the door and closing it behind him. Nervously, he approached the bed.
"Sydney?"
The eyes that slowly opened focused, not on the man standing beside the bed, but on a point behind him, and Jarod swallowed hard.
"Sydney, can you try to look at me?"
"No, Jacob." The words came softly in Flemish, but Jarod understood them. "I can't go on. No more."
Jarod glanced back over his shoulder, sensing that Broots had entered and was now standing behind him. "Do me a favor."
"Anything,” the technician replied promptly. “What is it?"
"Go through Sydney's medical file. Find out if he's had this before; if so, when."
"I'm on it." The man disappeared, the door closed and Jarod turned back to find that the older man was watching him, no recognition in his eyes. The younger man spoke quickly.
"Sydney? It's me. It's Jarod."
"You've... grown up." A light of recognition came into the man's eyes as he pronounced name, but the words were spoken slowly, in English now. "Did you do that after they took you away from me, Jarod?"
"When did they take me away from you, Sydney?" The younger man followed the idea of the delirious state, knowing it would keep the patient calmer. "Why?"
"You were only six." Sydney licked the lips that were dry under the mask. "They took you from me after the accident, so I could go and look after Jacob."
"Well, I'm here now." Jarod gently placed a hand on the man's arm. "And I want you to try and sleep. You need to rest."
"But... if I sleep... they'll take you away again..."
"No, Sydney." Jarod's voice was soothing. "I promise, they'll never take me away again. They won't take me away from you. Not anymore. Try to rest now. Close your eyes for me."
"I got... too close. I cared... too much." Although his eyes were closed, the man still muttered in a cracked, broken voice, his lips scarcely moving. "I told myself... I shouldn't. But I couldn't help it."
Jarod stood and, one hand still resting on that of the other man, reached out for a syringe that he had had the foresight to prepare. Yanking off the cap with his teeth, he tried to capture the swinging tube with one hand, but it was held for him and the syringe taken from his fingers.
"Clear the air out of it."
He watched, taking his seat again beside the bed, as she flicked it a few times with her finger and then slipped it into the I.V. tube.
"Slowly, Parker. Press the plunger slowly."
Jarod looked at the man in bed, who was still muttering softly, his words all but inaudible between breathlessness and the other sounds in the room. "I'm so very sorry, Jarod... I never meant..."
The voice trailed off, as the hand went limp in his, and then Jarod sank his head in his hands, exhaling slowly. He barely noticed the tentative hand that was placed on his shoulder, but he finally looked up.
"Did you get everything?"
"Yes. Henry was putting it away when I came in here."
"Good timing."
She nodded slowly. "Is he... worse?"
"I told you this might happen, Parker, remember? I've been waiting for it to start ever since he collapsed." He swallowed hard and then his gaze softened as he looked up at her. "Does that mean you'll help?"
"Yes, Jarod." She looked from him to the man on the bed, her hand still touching his shoulder. "I will."
He attached a new needle and refilled the syringe, putting it in arm's reach on the table before glancing at the man in bed, his eyes glistening. Impatiently, Jarod wiped an unshed tear away before it had a chance to fall, and exited the bedroom, leaving the door ajar, looking up at the technician.
"What did you find?"
"Sydney had pneumonia when Dachau was liberated."
Oh God, Jarod thought. We have to go through that again. He'll relive it all, over and over.
"Anything else?"
"He might have it just after the car accident, but nobody officially diagnosed it. They put it down as a severe chest infection."
Jarod nodded slowly. "And that's it?"
"That's all the chest problems that he reported."
"Well, that's something to be thankful for." He sat on the sofa, staring at his hands, before he looked up sharply. "And where's Lyle now?"
"He just left California."
"For?"
"Georgia."
"And then?"
"Washington State."
Despite himself, Jarod's lips twitched. "I hope he's using his frequent flyer miles. He’s going to need them when he files his next expense report."
"You don't seem very surprised about it, Jarod." Miss Parker leaned against the table, looking from the technician to the Pretender. "Did Broots tell you all he'd done while I was out?"
Jarod shrugged. "I guess you could say that."
"Great, Jarod!” Broots rolled his eyes, throwing both hands into the air. “After that, she's going to ask until she finds out."
"Well, she will now that you've basically told her to." Jarod leaned back. "Go ahead, tell her. If she hunted deep enough in the mainframe, she'd find out anyway. We did."
"Uh, no, that's fine. You can tell her."
"Scared, buddy?" Jarod watched Miss Parker's eyebrows shoot up at his deliberate use of the word and grinned. "Oops, that was just way too much information, wasn't it?"
"What on earth is going on?!"
"You mean you didn't know?" He stared at her, trying to look innocent. "The Triumvirate forgot to mention that they're using my half-brother to hunt for me? How very careless of them!"
"Your what?!"
"Oh, you heard me." Jarod stretched out on the sofa, exchanging looks with the man opposite him. "My mother's his too. We figured it out during that oh-so-exciting altercation with Damon a few years back." He half-smiled, dimples appearing in his cheeks. "I thought he would have mentioned it at some stage. When they both went to Paris for Debbie's birthday, I went along as uncle and interpreter." He looked sternly at Broots. "I can't believe you didn't tell her!"
"I decided I wanted to live a little longer."
"Coward," his brother teased.
"And proud of it," Broots affirmed.
Jarod laughed before looking at the woman who was staring at both men. "You know, I really can't believe that you didn't find out. I mean, I know some things in the Centre are still secret, but I thought that was just too big to be kept hidden."
"How did it happen?"
The Pretender became serious. "NuGenesis had some of my... our mother's DNA and genetic tissue from when she was there to become pregnant with Kyle and I. When the Centre found out what I capable of and kidnapped me, they used some of the genetic material to make your computer technician. His family was an adoptive one that NuGenesis selected before he was one year old. They've been steering him towards his current job for his whole life."
"And… how did you find out?"
"Do you remember that Damon shot me?"
"I think there was something about it in the report, yes."
"Broots mentioned his blood type, I got curious and we did the tests. It all went on from there." Jarod looked at his brother. "So where's Debbie now?"
"With Emily. I gave her the address and if it's safe she said they'll try to come around at some point."
"I'll look forward to it. I haven't seen either of them in quite a while." Jarod suddenly looked up again, sharply. "How is she?"
"She looked okay and said she felt fine, still occasionally gets a slight headache if she reads for too long or something, but otherwise no problems."
"Good." He looked up at Miss Parker, noting the continued look of shock on her face. "What is it, Parker?"
"Why didn't either of you tell me?"
"What difference would it have made?" Surprisingly, it was Broots who answered this. "Would you have treated Jarod any differently? Or me?"
"The way she behaved towards you would have changed." Jarod tucked an arm up behind his head. "It would have had to. She'd still have had to see you every day and we both know what she thinks of me. If she knew we were related, she'd probably have behaved the same way to you. She doesn't see me often enough for the way she treated me to change." Smiling faintly, he leaned forward, resting both arms on his knees. "I guess the way she behaves to you over the next days will tell you whether to stay on the pursuit team or not."
"I hate to mention this, big brother, but it looks like the pursuit team's done what it's supposed to. We're here."
"You haven't brought me back to the Centre yet. Don't count your chickens..."
"Okay, okay." Broots saw the expression on the Pretender’s face and the teasing tones left his voice. Glancing at his watch, the technician looked up again. "It's getting late. Who don’t we arrange something for dinner and then work out sleeping arrangements?"
Jarod nodded, getting slowly to his feet and going into the kitchen.
"You two... were kidding, right?"
Jarod looked up as Miss Parker walked into the bedroom and shut the door before going to sit down on a chair in the corner.
"No, Parker. We wouldn't joke about something like that. I know it seems hard to believe - and it was for us, too - but it's true."
"And who else...?"
"Knows? Nobody except Debbie and my family. Or at least as many as I've seen since then. Oh, I didn't tell Ethan. I thought he had enough to cope with. Catherine might have told him - I don't know."
"So why would the Triumvirate make Br…your brother do that?"
"Hunt for me?" Jarod shrugged. "Why do they do anything? It's probably been a great source of amusement to them over the last five years, though, especially knowing how hard I've been searching for my family." He sighed, pressing his back up against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him. "We thought about doing something so they'd know we knew, but felt that it might endanger one of our family - like Debbie - so we didn't."
Jarod had just settled himself on the camp bed after Miss Parker left the room, one of Henry’s books in his hand, when the figure lying in the other bed moved slightly.
"Sydney?" Jarod got up and sat down in the chair, gently putting out one hand to touch that of the older man. "Sydney, are you awake?"
"Please no." The murmured words were in Flemish and Jarod cursed inwardly as the patient's eyes opened but obviously saw nothing of the room. "Please, no more tests." The language changed suddenly to German. "They hurt too much. I can’t bear it. No. Please."
"All right, Sydney." Jarod replied softly in the same language. "No more tests. Now I want you to try and sleep for me. Just try to relax."
"No, no, please..."
Jarod glanced at his watch and noted with aggravation that he was going to have to wait until he could safely administer another shot to calm the man down.
"Sydney, I need you to listen to me." Jarod changed to Flemish, aware that it would be more easily understood. "You need to try and relax. I know it hurts, but if you relax it will help."
"No, Jacob. I can't. Just let me go. Please. It's too hard. I can't wait until... they - the America - the Americans... they might never..."
"Sydney, close your eyes for me," the Pretender pleaded softly, as the man stopped, gasping for breath.
"No! If I do that, you'll leave... I need somebody... to stay with me..."
"I promise you, Sydney, I'll stay with you, but you need to try and calm down." Jarod squeezed the older man's hand gently. "If you relax, the pain will be better, and I promise that I'll still be here. I'm not going anywhere."
"You did go, Jacob. You left me after the accident."
A tear slipped out of the man's eye, running down onto the mask, as Jarod tried to think of an answer that would calm his mentor without upsetting him.
"I'm here, though, Sydney." He changed to English. "It's me. It's Jarod."
"Jarod?" The blue eyes came to rest on him, lighting up as they had done before, but the man continued to speak in Flemish. "I thought you were dead."
Switching to the other language, Jarod saw the woman appear in the doorway, but a signal he made went unseen by the delirious man. Without a sound, she nodded and disappeared.
"No, Sydney. I'm still here, still beside you, but I need you to relax. Just shut your eyes for me. I can't help you unless you work with me. Close your eyes and try to rest."
"You won't... leave me?"
"No, Sydney." Jarod squeezed the man’s hand more firmly. "I wouldn't do that. Not now, while you need me."
The man opened his mouth to speak again, but coughed instead. Jarod stood, reaching for a bowl that was on the table, removing the oxygen mask as he did so, and raising the head of the bed a little more.
"That's it, Sydney." Jarod’s voice was soft and soothing. "Try and cough. It will make it easier to breathe afterwards."
Gently, he slid an arm around the man's shoulders, and, with the other hand holding the bowl, helped the man sit up. The coughing fit was violent, and Sydney was out of breath by the time it was over, lying weakly against the pillows, as Jarod put the mask back over his pale, almost gray face.
"Jarod..."
Looking up as he put down the bowl, Jarod saw that the gaze Sydney turned on him was very alert.
"It's okay, Sydney. I told you I'd take care of you, remember?"
The psychiatrist nodded slightly, moving one hand, which Jarod gently covered with his own, a smile on the Pretender's face.
"Just try to relax, Sydney. I know it's hard and it hurts, but try."
Sydney's eyes slipped closed, but the hand in Jarod's was still tense. A thought came into his mind, and the younger man leaned forward. "Was there something that you wanted to tell me, Sydney?"
The pain-filled eyes opened once more, staring directly into his, as Jarod lifted off the mask with his free hand so that he could see the man's lips.
"T... thank you...Jarod."
Jarod smiled, replacing the plastic, and gently squeezed the man's hand as his eyelids slowly slid closed again.
"You're welcome, Sydney."
Jarod peered at the specimen through the microscope and then sat back with a sigh of relief.
"What is it?"
"Bacterial pneumonia."
Miss Parker raised an eyebrow. "And that's good?"
"It's at least treatable. If it'd been viral, we couldn't have done much, but bacterial pneumonia means we can give Sydney penicillin and hope it will have an effect."
"How did you now know that before? I mean, you said you were going to do tests and…"
"I did, Parker." He cut through her speech. "But pneumonia is virtually impossible to detect accurately with blood tests and I had to wait for him to start coughing so I could test what he brought up."
The woman nodded. "And how did he get it?"
"Breathing." Jarod pulled his bag over the table towards him, taking out a pile of syringes and strip of needles, before extracting several glass vials. "And, because of that fact, anyone who wants to go into the room with him from now on gets a nice gift from me." He opened the first syringe and affixed the needle, filling it, before turning to the other people in the room, with an alcohol swab in his left hand and a small grin on his face. "Who's up first?"
"I never knew there was a pneumonia vaccine." Miss Parker rubbed her arm and then looked at the Pretender.
"Most people don't, but it's been around for years. Longer than that for influenza, actually."
"I don't suppose you had anything to do with it?"
"I might have helped a bit." Jarod wiped his own arm and injected himself with the vaccine.
"Couldn't you have made it accessible in a less painful form?"
"Picky, picky, picky." He removed the needle from the plastic syringe and let it drop into the container where he was storing the used items. "It'll hurt for only a couple of seconds, but if you get what Sydney’s got, it'd hurt for a heck of a lot longer."
Miss Parker looked up at him. "Why didn't you want me to come in before?"
"How much of what we were saying did you understand?"
"None, except when you spoke in English."
"If we had enough time then I'd teach you both Flemish and German, but I don't think we do." Jarod sat back in his chair with a sigh and folded his arms. "What he said as you appeared in the doorway was 'I thought you were dead'. This delirium will bring out some of his deepest fears, and that appears be one of them. If he saw you in that state - regardless of whether he saw you as you or your mother - it would have a similar impact."
"He’d think I was dead, or perhaps remember she is too, and it would upset him more."
Jarod looked over at her, eyebrows raised, hiding a smile. "I don't know why they dragged me to the Centre when they already had you there."
"Says the man who can speak - how many languages can you speak again?"
"At last count?" He grinned. "Seventy-three. Give or take."
"I don't think I want to know."
"What, you've never read a multi-lingual dictionary? They're fascinating."
Jarod slipped back into the room, placing the syringe on the table, and then looked up to find that the man in the bed was watching him, panting slightly for breath.
"Sydney?"
"Jarod... what... are you...?"
He smiled. "I've got something to help you with the pain." Jarod leaned over the bed to make it easier for the sick man to focus on him. "Can you remember if you had a flu shot this year?"
The man shook his head slowly. "I never... went..."
"Okay, it doesn't matter." Jarod gently put one hand on his arm. "Just try to sleep, Sydney. I'm going to give you something to make it easier to relax, and also to stop your chest from being so painful."
Obediently closing his eyes, the man felt the warmth flowing into his body as the weight on his chest gradually lightened, making it easier to draw in a deep breath before slipping down into the blackness.
"Asleep?" asked the quiet voice of his brother from the doorway and the Pretender turned.
"Thankfully." Jarod stepped back from the bed and disposed of the needle. "I'm going to take advantage of this to try to get a little sleep myself and I’d suggest that you two do the same. How are we managing for sleeping arrangements?"
"Henry offered us the use of his spare room, so I'll sleep over there and Parker can spend the night on the sofa in your living room. She wanted to be close and I don't mind."
"As long as everybody's happy, that sounds like a good solution." Jarod looked up again. "Tell Parker that I'll call her if I need a hand."
"No problem. Good night, Jarod."
"Good night."
Jarod awoke a few hours later, getting out of bed to look at the reading of the machine, and was relieved to see that it was stable. Going over to the bed, he picked up a new needle and filled it, putting it in a convenient position, before changing the I.V. bag that was preventing Sydney from dehydrating. As everything seemed in order, he was about to return to bed when the hand under his moved and then the ill man's eyelids slowly lifted.
"Sydney?"
"Please, help me..."
The Flemish words were murmured but the pain in his eyes was very clear.
"Sydney, it's okay,” Jarod soothed. “You're safe."
The patient’s eyes flickered around the room, focusing on anything except the man seated in the chair beside the bed. Jarod leaned forward. "Sydney, come on. Try to look at me. I know you can."
"They're all... gone. I don't want...to be alone..."
"You're not alone, Sydney. I'm right here, with you."
"Please, I'm too scared... not alone..."
"Sydney, you're not alone. You're safe here, with me."
"You're not... real... only a dream..."
"No, Sydney. I'm real, very real, and I'll stay here with you."
"Only pain... is real..."
"Yes, Sydney, I know that pain is real, but I'm real too. Just try to look at me."
"Pain... and death..."
"No." Jarod squeezed the older man's hand more tightly. "Not death. You are not going to die, Sydney, do you hear me? I won't let you."
"Too hard... Catherine, Jacob... dead... too hard to live..."
"I know it's hard, Sydney, but you have to keep fighting. Please, don't give up yet. Not now."
"Jarod has his family... Nicholas has Michelle... nobody needs me anymore... I'll go home..."
"Sydney, I still need you. Please."
Unaware of the tears that had begun to appear in his eyes as his own fear was stated by his former teacher, Jarod continued to plead with the sick man, even as Sydney's eyelids slowly slid shut and, with a sigh, he relaxed.
